And by the way
You know that hope will make you strange
Make you blink, make you blink
Make you sink
It will make you afraid of change
Enough to blame the box with the view of the world
And the wars that fill the frame
I turn it up
But then I turn it off
Because I can't stand
When they start to talk about
The hurting and killing
Whose shoes are we filling
The damage and ruin
And the things that we're doing
We gotta stop
We gotta turn it all off
We gotta
Rewind
Start it up again
Because we fell across the fall line
Ain't there nothing sacred anymore
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah
Somebody saw him jump
Yeah, but nobody saw him slip
I guess he lost a lot a hope
And then he lost a grip
And now he's lying in the freeway
In the middle of this mess
Guess we lost another one, just like the other one
Optimistic hypocrite that didn't have the nerve to quit
The things that kept him wanting more
'Til he finally reached the core
He fell across the fall line
Ain't there nothing sacred anymore
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah
-- Fall Line, by Jack Johnson.
I don't even know why, really. But this song helps. When I quit smoking, nearly four years ago, I did it both after a long try and all on the spur of the moment. I was down to four cigarettes a day, after a year of cutting down, and I was about to have my second of the day. I looked at it, and I put this song on the CD player, and then I threw the cigarette to the ground without ever lighting it. I threw away the other two, also, and I went for a drive.
It was a hot July day. I drove around for a bit, just looking at the scenery and replaying "Fall Line" over and over.
It lulled me, maybe. It was soft and quiet and mellowing.
The words seemed to mean something but I wasn't sure quite what.
I didn't know what a "Fall Line" was.
But I kept listening to it over and over that day and it helped get me through the first 24 hours of quitting smoking. And I still listen to it now and then, when I'm feeling stressed out or need a little break or just want to relax.
In yoga, which I've just taken up, there's a pose called "Relaxation Pose." It's the last one I do each week in my yoga session. You lay flat. You close your eyes. You relax your hands and legs and shoulders and arms and knees and neck and head and mouth and stomach. You breath slowly and deeply. And it fills you with a sense of warmth and peace and comfort.
I like it.
But I've been getting that feeling for nearly four years listening to "Fall Line."
I don't know why that is. But it is.
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